


World Cold and Hard, Moth Boy Warm and Soft

by L C Jenkins (MrJenkins)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Autistic Martin Blackwood, Child Abuse, Fluff, Inspired by Ponyo (2008), M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misgendering, No beta we kayak like Tim, Panic Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, btw peter and jonah are fairly ooc in this but idc, i think those are the only two tws, it only happens once i promise, its not really important to the fic but its important to me, its.. martins mom is a piece of work, oh! theres swears in this, please dont make me tag the other characters theres too many, thats a trigger right, weird name stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrJenkins/pseuds/L%20C%20Jenkins
Summary: "Wait, wait, what are you doing here?" he asked."Father put me in a cocoon, so I flew away from home!" Jon responded indignantly.-Jon, a young moth fairy, leaves the nest in search of a place that feels like home.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Peter Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 16
Kudos: 102
Collections: TMA Big Bang 2020





	1. Prologos

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Original Jonyo Post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/720250) by Ari @mushymushhh. 



> Mmmm nyello!
> 
> Welcome to Jonyo! This story means a lot to me, so I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> A little bit of housekeeping:  
> This fic is part of 2020's tma big bang! Please be sure to take a look at everyone else's awesome works!  
> I plan to post one to two chapters every week, depending on the pacing.  
> Have fun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's journey begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: Anemone is Jon's deadname in the context of this fic.

The man standing at the front of the giant airship hummed to himself as he worked. “There you go, little one,” He murmured to the cloud he held in his hands. “You should be completely healed and ready to fly once more.” The man raised the cloud into the air. As it floated away from him, the mist dissipated to reveal a small bird. The bird flapped its wings once, twice, then quickly flew away. The man grinned, glad to see his hard work paying off, and scratched at his thick beard.

On the other side of the ship, several moths flitted amongst their magical trees, giggling as they frolicked. The second biggest was still, however, and had her little eyes fixated on the man. “I think Father is still distracted, Nemmie,” she whispered to the moth next to her, the biggest of the bunch. “You should go now before he comes to check on us.”

“Thank you, Sasha,” the biggest moth, Anemone, murmured. Sasha smiled without turning to face her sibling. She fiddled with the ends of her dark hair as she kept her focus on her father.

“Of course, Nemmie. I hope you find the place that’s home to you. Stay safe.”

  
“I will. You stay safe, too.” With that, Anemone flitted off, only pausing to wave at the younger moths and caterpillars. They all waved back, some with tears in their eyes. Anemone smiled sadly down at them, then turned forward.  _ It would not do to get turned around and bump directly into Father, after all. Particularly not when one is running away from home. _


	2. In Which A Moth Is Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for verbal and emotional abuse against a child and swearing.

When Martin awoke that morning, he was pleasantly surprised to see that the weather was good. He smiled as he stretched, then went about his routine: get dressed, cook breakfast, clear out used flypapers, wake mum… Martin paused as he reached for some of the flypapers that hung above his mother’s bedroom door.  _ That is  _ not  _ a fly,  _ he thought.  _ What the hell  _ is  _ that thing?  _ He grabbed a chair from the kitchen and stood on it to get a closer look.

The poor creature that had become entrapped in the flypaper’s glue looked down at Martin with some effort, the hairs caught in the trap making it difficult to move its head at all. It twitched its wings, its little legs wiggling desperately. It was struggling against its sticky prison and losing.

“Oh, you poor little moth!” Martin exclaimed in a whisper. “Just a moment, I’ll rescue you.” He climbed down from the chair and rushed into his room, then came back with a small pair of scissors. “I’m very sorry; I’m going to have to cut your hair.”

Martin gently cupped the moth’s body with one hand, then carefully cut its hair short. As he snipped the last strands, he somehow managed to poke one of his fingers. “Oh, ouch!” He cried in surprise, nearly dropping both the moth and his scissors. Blood immediately beaded up from the wound, and Martin grimaced.  _ Just my luck.  _ The moth crawled up his palm, its tiny feet tickling with every step.

“No, no, little moth! My blood is  _ not  _ for drinking!” Martin admonished, but it was already too late. The moth stuck out its tongue -  _ why does this moth have a tongue?!  _ \- and licked the blood off of Martin’s finger. The stinging pain immediately faded away, the mark quickly looking days old. “O-oh! Did you heal me?” The moth blinked up at Martin with its large brown eyes. “Thank you.”

Martin carried the moth to the kitchen, retrieving a big enough jar for it, then took both to his room. He plucked a twig and a few leaves from the tree just outside his window, placed them into the jar, and then guided the moth into its new, hopefully temporary, home. Once the little one settled, Martin looked at it through the glass. It was a very cute moth, in Martin’s opinion, with its huge round eyes, soft antennae, floaty green and black body, and now chin-length hair. As he watched, the moth fluttered its wings, which were covered in an eye pattern.

“You’re a very special moth, aren’t you?” Martin asked it. “After all, you’ve got hair and a tongue and, well, eyebrows!” The moth opened its second pair of eyes, stunning green, which Martin had assumed were eyebrows. “Oh! No eyebrows then, sorry. In any case, you  _ do  _ look like a rather distinguished young gentleman. May I call you Jonathan?” The moth tilted its head and smiled a little. “Oooh, how about just Jon?” The moth nodded its - his - head vigorously. “It’s lovely to meet you, Jon, I’m-”

“MARTIN! WHERE ARE YOU?” Martin’s mother Mara’s voice echoed down the hallway. Martin’s eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no…” he groaned. He ran a hand down his face, then gave Jon a wry smile. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, then shouted, “Coming, Mum!”

Martin hurried into Mara’s room with breakfast in under a minute, a stream of apologies trailing behind him. Mara gave him her best glare and put her hand up to stop him from continuing. Martin stuttered to a stop, both verbally and physically, shrinking away from his mother.

“I  _ don’t  _ want to hear it,” Mara said firmly. “Just give me my damned breakfast and go get ready for school.” Martin handed the plate over to her and immediately backed away. “Go!” Mara snapped.

As Martin turned to leave the room, he heard her mutter, “Fucking useless child…” He kept his shoulders from scrunching up to his ears while he was still in his mother’s line of sight, which he counted as a win.

Still, though, by the time he made it back to his room, hot, fat tears were rolling down his cheeks. He shut his door quietly, then sat down at his desk and put his face in his hands.

“Martin?” a tiny voice squeaked. Martin looked up in surprise. Jon was right in front of his face, fluttering around in what seemed like anxious concern. He pronounced Martin’s name oddly, as though it was spelled with an h instead of an r. “Martin!” Jon exclaimed again as he landed on Martin’s face. He lifted one of his front legs - arms? - and brought it down again and again, like a comforting little pat. Martin giggled, his voice still mostly choked with tears.

“Th-thank you, Jon,” he eventually managed to rasp out. Jon took off from Martin’s face, and Martin was very sad to have him go - until he realized that Jon was giving him a wide smile. It was, without a doubt, the cutest smile Martin had ever seen, his mouth spread wide enough for his lower eyes to crinkle shut. Martin felt his own lips twitch up to mirror the expression. He was still definitely upset, but having Jon there with him  _ definitely  _ made things a bit better. Martin scrubbed at his face, smiling more and more by the second.

“Martin! Tha-” Jon began.

“MARTIN, THE STOKER BOY IS HERE! GET YOUR ASS TO SCHOOL,  _ NOW _ !” Mara screeched, her voice now coming from the living room, effectively ruining whatever Jon was about to say.

“Ah, shoot,” Martin grumbled. “Jon, I hate to ask, but will you go back in the jar for a bit?” Jon tilted his head as if to ask  _ why.  _ “I need to take you to school with me. I don’t want Mum to find you and squash you or something.” Jon closed all four of his eyes and shuddered. “Yeah, I agree. That  _ would  _ be quite awful.” Jon opened his lower eyes, which Martin suspected were the only ones he used to see, then quickly flew into the jar and settled in next to the twig. Martin couldn’t help but smile again, as it looked like Jon had crossed his tiny lower legs.  _ He truly  _ is  _ a distinguished young gentleman!  _ He thought with a quiet laugh.

Martin carefully placed Jon’s jar in his bag, then hurried out to meet Tim. He was so busy with keeping Jon safe that he hardly even noticed his mother’s rude comments about his clothes, his hair, his tardiness - whatever it was she decided to be upset about today.

Tim, ever the kind soul, made sure Martin’s front door was good and closed before leaning in to sarcastically whisper, “I see she’s as sunny as ever.”

Martin gently shoved Tim’s shoulder as they walked to his parents’ car. “It’s not her fault, Tim,” Martin insisted. “She’s not feeling well today, plus I was late waking her. It’s only natural for her to be upset.”

Tim fixed Martin with one of his patented ‘ _ that’s bullshit’  _ looks. “Martin, I love you so much, but sometimes you are the densest person.” He opened the passenger door and slid in next to his little brother Danny. “I mean, come on, even you  _ have  _ to know that you’re spouting a crock of sh-”

“Language, Timothy,” Mr. Stoker admonished from the front passenger seat.

“I was only going to say ‘nonsense’, dad,” Tim groaned. Danny giggled, prompting Tim to give him a light noogie in response.

“It’s fine, Tim,” Martin responded. “Just don’t worry about it.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Right-o, Marto!” Martin wrinkled his nose at the rhyme-nickname combo but refrained from commenting. He knew that saying something would undoubtedly lead to more, much worse rhymes and puns.

“So, Martin,” Mrs. Stoker asked after a few moments of silence, “How are you doing so far today?” She kept her voice neutral, but Martin had known Tim’s family long enough to notice when she was worried about him.

“I've been fine, thank you for asking. How has your day been?” Martin asked politely.

Mrs. Stoker hummed disappointedly, then responded, “Ours has been busy as ever, I suppose.”

“Oh! But, but, Martin!!” Danny spoke up suddenly, his volume far too loud for the small space of the car. “Guess what happened last night?”

“What happened?”

“I lost my last baby tooth!” Danny hollered. He leaned forward and across Tim, opening his mouth wide so that Martin could see. Martin shifted to get a better look, and sure enough, there was a gap between two of his bottom teeth.

“That’s wonderful, Danny!” Martin exclaimed, careful to keep his volume normal. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Me too!” Danny agreed, sitting back in his seat. Martin noticed that he was humming softly to himself.

It didn’t take too much longer for them to arrive at Danny’s middle school. Before getting out of the car, Danny insisted on giving everyone in his family a kiss on the cheek. Then he leaned across Tim again and kissed Martin’s cheek, too. He grinned at Martin, causing Martin to smile as well.

“Bye!!” He shouted, waving as he got out of the car and hurried off to class.

“Bye!” Martin and Tim hollered back. Mrs. and Mr. Stoker waved to their son but didn’t bother to yell. They waited for Danny to catch up with some of his friends, then drove off to take Martin and Tim to school.

Tim leaned closer to Martin, then, and whispered, "See, Danny  _ totally _ has a crush on you."

Martin rolled his eyes and shoved Tim's face away from him. "Yeah, yeah. Stuff it, Tim." Martin didn't understand why Tim was so hellbent on making sure Martin knew about Danny's feelings for him, anyway. After all, it was just a schoolboy crush, and it didn't really affect Martin at all.

Martin didn’t have to deal with Tim’s teasing for too much longer, thankfully, as they soon pulled up to their high school. They bid Tim’s parents farewell, then hurried off to their separate morning classes.

Martin stopped by the bathroom before going to class. It was, fortunately, empty, so he simply opened his bag and carefully took Jon’s jar out. Jon was still sitting comfortably at the bottom of the jar, examining one of the leaves with great interest. He looked up, however, when Martin started moving him around.

“Hey, Jon,” Martin murmured. “Are you doing okay?” Jon nodded. “That’s good. Um, do you want to leave? I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you here.”

Jon shook his head vehemently, then flew up to the lip of the jar. “I want to stay with Martin!” He squeaked insistently. “Martin, you rescued me. Now we’re friends!”

Martin grinned. “That’s true. We  _ are  _ friends now, aren’t we?” Jon nodded so vigorously that his whole body bounced. He fluttered up to bump his head against Martin’s chin. Martin giggled. “You sure are affectionate!” Jon smiled widely in response, then floated back down into the jar.

“I suppose that’s settled, then,” Martin said. “Let me know if you get uncomfortable in my bag, okay?” Jon nodded, still smiling. Martin nodded back, then tucked Jon back into the relative safety of his bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim: Martin you are appealing as both a friend and a romantic partner. You are a wonderful person and you deserve to have all the love in the world.
> 
> Martin: Hm. Disgusting.


	3. In Which Lunch Is Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets Martin's friend group.

Jon was quiet throughout Martin’s morning classes. Martin hoped that the poor moth wasn’t getting too bored with just sitting around in the dark, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. During lunch, though, he decided that he ought to let Jon out, at least for a bit.

When Martin arrived at his friend group’s chosen eating area, everyone else was already there, as expected; Martin’s class before lunch _always_ let out late, no matter how hard the teacher tried to be punctual. Also unsurprising was the sight of Melanie and Mike squabbling, as was their lunchtime custom. Martin ducked under one of Melanie’s flailing arms and slid into his seat next to Tim.

Tim nodded to Martin in greeting, then immediately went back to looking at whatever Gerry was currently sketching. Martin smiled back at him, then turned to get Jon out of his bag. Fortunately, the little fellow seemed to be as comfortable as he had been that morning. His face immediately lit up when he saw Martin, and Martin felt his own lips curl up in response.

Martin set Jon’s jar down on the table in front of him, careful to keep him out of Melanie’s gesture range, then reached back into his bag to grab his food. As he pulled it all out, he found himself wondering what, exactly, Jon would want to eat. He was so caught up in his thoughts that for a moment, he didn’t realize that everyone around him had fallen silent. When he looked up, he saw that everyone was _staring._ “Um?” he started to say, before being interrupted.

“What kind of moth is that?” Georgie asked, her voice steeped in curiosity.

“Yeah,” Helen added, “and why is it so big?” A quiet chatter of agreement briefly rippled across the group.

“Oh, erm… I don’t actually know what _kind_ of moth he is. He’s super cute though!” Martin smiled down at Jon, then held out his hand. “Jon, will you come here for a moment? There are some people I’d like you to meet.” Jon glanced around at all of the people around him, assessing the situation, then fluttered out of the jar and onto Martin’s hand. He wrapped both of his arms around Martin’s thumb in a tiny hug.

“Are you doing alright?” Martin asked Jon. After Jon nodded, Martin smiled and carefully held him up higher, making sure that everyone had a good view. “Everybody, this is my new friend Jon!” Jon waved to everyone that he could see.

“Ohh, he’s so precious!” Mike exclaimed, leaning in close. “Look at his little face!”

Helen moved forward, too. “Oh my, what a star!” Soon all of Martin’s friends were cooing over Jon. Jon seemed a little shocked by all of the praise but was otherwise calm. Martin wondered if Jon was somehow used to crowds, and resolved to ask him later.

After everyone calmed down, Martin softly asked Jon, “Are you hungry?” Jon nodded, his big eyes widening in excitement. “What would you like to eat, then? I’ve got a sandwich, some apple slices, tea, and an oatmeal raisin cookie.”

Jon considered all of the food before him as Martin poured tea from his thermos into a cup. Hesitantly, Jon fluttered down to the apple slices, seeming to sniff at them. “I can make those smaller for you, if you’d like,” Martin offered. Jon looked up at him and nodded. Martin carefully broke a few slices into more manageable pieces, then set them in front of Jon. Jon picked up one and nibbled at it, then grinned in delight.

“It’s so sweet!” He chirped happily. He quickly finished off a few more pieces. Martin giggled.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it!” Jon yelled, throwing his tiny hands into the air, then set about eating the rest of his food. Once finished, he turned his attention to Martin’s tea.

“Can I try that?” He asked, pointing at it. “Smells good.”

“Sure, just be careful,” Martin warned. “It’s a little hot.” Jon nodded, then approached the cup. He stuck his face close and took a tentative sip, then another, longer drink. His eyes lit up even more.

“Oh! I _love_ this!” Jon bounced a little with excitement. “I LOVE THIS!!”

“You can have as much of it as you want, then,” Martin told him. Jon bounced even more, his wings fluttering wildly. Martin laughed, delighted by the adorable sight.

“He sure does have a lot of energy,” Gerry commented. He had a rare smile on his face as he watched Jon take another long drink of tea. Martin hummed in agreement.

“You know, Martin,” Tim said, suddenly slinging an arm around Martin’s shoulder. “You should try giving Jon some raisins. Bet he’d go wild over those.”

Martin grinned. “That’s a great idea, Tim.” He took out his cookie and picked a few raisins out of it. “Here, Jon, would you like to try?”

Jon took one of the offered raisins and sniffed it, then took a big bite. “Oooooh, tasty…” He mumbled around the mouthful of raisin. His antennae trembled happily. He polished it off, then looked up at Martin. “I’m full now.”

“Oh, okay! I’m glad you enjoyed your lunch.”

“Me too!” Jon said brightly. “Human food is really good! Much better than nectar.” He fluttered forward and pressed his face against Martin’s forehead. “Thank you for the food!”

Martin felt himself go pink as he realized that Jon had kissed his forehead. As Jon settled himself back in his jar, Martin mumbled, “Oh, it’s no trouble.” He pretended to not notice the weird grin Tim was giving him and the gentle, knowing look that passed between Georgie and Helen.

After that, lunch was mostly uneventful, and by the time Martin had to go back to class, Jon was fast asleep.


	4. In Which A Thimble Is Washed

That evening, Martin cooked dinner for himself and his mother, then brewed plenty of tea to last until bedtime. Fortunately, Mara did not leave her room for dinner - she did not bother to acknowledge Martin when he brought food in for her either, which he tried to not feel hurt by - and Martin was able to bring Jon food without any trouble. Jon had quickly determined that he only really liked crunchy foods, so Martin made sure to bring him a bunch of fresh vegetables and fruits to try along with a small cupful of the soup he had prepared for dinner.

Before pouring tea for himself, Martin dug around in his closet for a bit. Jon watched him with mild interest from where he sat at Martin’s desk. After a few minutes of rummaging, Martin finally wrestled out what he was looking for - his rather large sewing box. He set the box on his bed, opened it, and started moving things around. Jon nibbled on a piece of lettuce as Martin worked. Soon enough, Martin came away from the box with a quiet “ah-ha!” He held up his prize, a small plastic thimble.

“I’ll be right back, Jon,” He told his little moth friend as he closed the sewing box. He hurried out to the kitchen, where he carefully washed the thimble. When he returned, Jon had moved on from the lettuce and was now crunching on a small carrot. Martin smiled at the adorable sight, then sat down in his desk chair, which made him feel like he was sitting right next to Jon.

“Here you are,” He said, setting the thimble in front of Jon. “Your very own Jon-sized teacup!” He poured tea into the cup. Jon finished eating his carrot, then grinned up at Martin.

“Thank you, Martin!” He chirped before carefully picking up the cup and taking a sip of the tea. “Tea is soooooo good!” He exclaimed.

  
“I agree,” Martin said, pouring a cup for himself. After taking a generous drink, Martin picked up his pencil and pulled out his newest notebook.  _ I wonder what kind of words best describe moths…  _ He wondered as he started to scribble out a line of poetry.  _ Fuzzy, for sure… and small. Maybe fluttering, a bit like the heart of someone with a newfound crush…  _ Martin looked up at where Jon was sitting, completely focused on his tea.  _ Cute, too. _


End file.
